Forfeit
by BiblioMatsuri
Summary: Powers set their price. The dead will have their meal. The innocent will be sacrificed. Canon divergence AU. Rated for safety.
1. Curiosity

Disclaimer: I don't own DP.

BGM: "8th Commandment" by Sonata Arctica.

* * *

Curiosity

I sighed. Of course it didn't work. None of my parents' experiments work. Of course, I couldn't say this out loud, as that would go against their entire worldview, and my parents were far too stubborn to listen. Arrogant, hidebound-

I stifled the thought before it could finish forming. I was the good child. I could not cause trouble. I couldn't afford to be selfish and petty and resentful.

So instead, I gave my parents a little speech meant to comfort them, soothe the sting of repeated failure, and placate them (so they wouldn't bother me). No, so they wouldn't be so upset and depressed, so it wouldn't affect others around them negatively.

Who was I even trying to kid?

* * *

"…And what were you thinking, young man? You could have been seriously injured!"

_Or worse_, I thought glumly, tuning out Mom's desperate scolding. _Not that anyone will admit it to Danny, because he has to be taken care of and it isn't healthy to tell small children that they might have killed themselves by thoughtlessness_.

I shook my head sharply. Mom and Dad's continued depression must have been getting to me. It had been nearly a week since the Fenton Portal failed to activate, to no one's surprise. Mom had translated that depression into aggression, constantly testing out inventions, read blowing things up. Dad had chosen a somewhat more proactive but no less unhealthy coping mechanism, and had all but shut himself in the lab after he'd caught Danny and his little friends down there the evening of the accident.

Said little brother had, like an idiot, forgotten to wear his insulated haz-mat suit (white, and custom-made to fit better than the hideous orange one-size-fits-all suits up in the Ops Center). Danny had been immediately rushed to the emergency room. He still had bandages over the electrical burn on his right ankle, and was still on a fairly strong painkiller, so I doubted he could even hear Mom's half-hearted tirade.

(Which was upsetting in and of itself. Mom and Dad were many things, but half-hearted had never been one of them. More than likely, the stress was affecting them more than they were willing to admit to their children.)

Mom and Dad faced legal investigation for not complying to basic safety regulations, and I suspected that if they didn't show incontrovertible proof that they hadn't spent the last twenty years barking up the wrong tree, their never-present employers would just let the inspector come and shut the place down. Not that I would miss the constant risk of them blowing up FentonWorks with all of us still in it, but I had to wonder if they could even hold down more mundane jobs.

I tried to imagine my mother as a regular nine-to-five office worker and quietly putting up with idiots talking down to her because she had two X chromosomes, or my father working in a factory surrounded by machinery he wasn't allowed to tinker with, and felt a need to go into hysterics. Who would hire a pair of self-proclaimed paranormal experts? (And where had they even gotten PhDs in Paranormal Studies in the first place?)

Mom asked me if I was feeling alright. I must look as queasy as I feel.

I politely excused myself from the table and went to my room to think in circles some more. As unbelievably stupid and reckless as Danny's actions had been, I could easily understand the line of reasoning. "The Portal is not working, so Mom and Dad are sad. I do not want Mom and Dad to be sad. If the Portal works, then they will not be sad. I want the Portal to work. Therefore, I should try to make the Portal work." There had likely been liberal application of peer pressure along the way, but the logic was, if not sound, at least believable-sounding. (Oh, I wish I'd spent more time learning the basics of formal logic!)

…Focus, Jazz. Worrying isn't going to help. As stupid as it was trying on his own, Danny had the right idea. Before you throw in the towel and start looking up charity organizations, you should at least try.

The Fenton Portal might have been a bust, but it's the first invention that they've actually completed. That will be our best bet.

First step: Ask Mom and Dad what might have gone wrong.

* * *

I paced around my bedroom, socks soundless on thick carpet, trying to gather my thoughts.

First step: Failed. Utterly failed. I couldn't believe Mom actually threw me out of the room. I just wanted to help! Danny was hurt, I knew that, but I wasn't a doctor. What was I supposed to do about that? There's nothing I can do!

I stopped, leaning my head against the cool bright-pink paint on my bedroom wall. Yes, it was a setback, but that was all it was. I refused to go down like this, with my brother's friends banned from the premises (by all three sets of parents) and his own behavior growing more erratic by the day, with Mom and Dad shutting out all of humanity in favor of their projects that grew more insane by the hour.

I had to do something, anything, but the first step counted on Mom or Dad helping.

I was not seriously considering…

* * *

I couldn't believe I was doing this.

I finished zipping the thick, not-quite-rubbery fabric over my clothes, testing how it constricted my movements. It wasn't anywhere near as bad as I'd imagined. The fabric actually shrank to fit, almost skintight, but it didn't compress anything to the point of pain or interfere with my breathing. Say whatever you wanted about my parents, but they spared no expense when it came to proper lab safety. (Except, of course, for actually setting boundaries between the lab and the rest of the house, which is why I was here in the first place.)

I breathed deeply, trying to slow my racing heartbeat. The boots went on next, thick black rubber with some kind of hard sole. Then gloves, same material as the boots, but slightly thinner and more flexible.

A belt went over the suit, water-resistant (and heat-resistant, and acid-resistant, and everything-else-they-could-think-of resistant) fabric with tiny pockets that had no useful purpose I could discern, and hooks and loops I could fix things to if I needed my hands free. I took advantage of these, attaching a waterproof flashlight, a thin loop of light-duty synthetic cordage and a micro toolkit. I wasn't my mother, but at least if it was something obvious, I could try to patch it. As for the cordage… I wanted something to tie myself to in case things went wrong and I had to drag myself out.

Why was I even doing this?

A high, staccato knocking started on my bedroom door.

"Jazz?" Danny called through the wood-and-paint barrier. "Are you going to eat something? There's still some leftover pizza in the fridge."

And there was my little brother, making light and joking around like he always did, as he had been doing for years. In the meantime, I'd been busy with my ever more challenging studies and the teachers who lavished praise on me and the college admissions officials who were all but licking my feet to get an once-in-a-lifetime genius at their schools, one more feather in their respective caps.

In fact, I'd been so busy I didn't even notice my little brother had had an accident, and very nearly a heart attack, until my father came in at 5:03 the next morning and oh-so-carefully explained the whole mess to me. Because I had had my ear glued to a phone, and my eyes glued to my computer screen, and my hands busy writing notes and typing notes and collating things and whatever was happening to my silly little brother, it couldn't be that important, could it, because _it was just Danny!_

It was just Danny, and he would never get in real trouble.

And now I was going to do this because I was an idiot. Because I should have seen this coming, I was the smart one, the mature one, but I didn't. Because, for once, I couldn't think of anything better and there were no good choices. Because where smarts fail, all I have left is luck.

I swallowed everything I wanted to say, and forced myself into some semblance of calm.

"No thank you, Danny."

"You sure?" Now I could hear the slight rasp that meant pain, and the odd shifts in tone that meant his painkillers were kicking in.

"…Yes. I'm sure."

* * *

I padded through the lab, steps muffling on an unexpected layer of dust. Mom and Dad had always been scrupulous about not allowing any outside contaminants in the lab, however much the experiments might spill out of what had been their set workstations. Now, my feet raised a slight cloud of dust with each step, a small cloud of pale green glitter lit by the remaining active machinery. Motes drifted across the path of my flashlight's beam when I flicked it on, wincing at the suddenly-loud click of the switch being flipped.

It had been more difficult sneaking past Danny, who had gotten very clingy after the accident, than it had been to get into the lab. After all, the Fenton genetic lock Dad had installed at some point between dinner and breakfast a few nights ago would only keep out people that didn't have Fenton DNA. Danny had learned his lesson, and I was apparently assumed to be too sensible to pull a stupid stunt like this. "This", I knew, would use up my entire life's worth of "good child" credit.

I went over to the tables, trusting in my parents' utter lack of any organizational skills. Parts, beaker of glowing green fluid, more parts, partially constructed ray-gun, even more parts, last week's grocery list with some formulas written on it – there! The blueprints and design notes for the Fenton Ecto-Portal Mark II. (Mark II? So there was another one?)

I drew back with my find, careful not to jostle anything else and risk making noise. The lab looked oddly menacing, now. (Now that I knew something strange must have happened, because Danny hadn't had a pulse when I'd found him.)

Finally, I stood before the empty hulk of the Fenton Portal.

I paused and breathed in. (What if this didn't work? What if I get seriously hurt? What if I die? What if I'm injured so badly that I die before the ambulance gets here and Danny has to watch me die? That could destroy him.)

I drew myself up and exhaled. (What if Mom and Dad lose their funding? What if we lose all our money? What if they try to take Danny and me away? Yes, Mom and Dad are crazy, I know they are crazy, but they're still our parents. That could destroy them.)

I stepped forward into the depths of the great machine. This had to work, it had to.

I looked around frantically, scanning for clues, for possible explanations as to why (other than the obvious "it's all bunk") the Portal hadn't worked. All wires properly insulated (especially after that disaster), all hatches closed (and latched, in a few cases that I was suddenly itching to investigate), all switches in the "on" position (even Mom and Dad weren't that oblivious).

…Was that a big red button with "OFF" on it?

Yes, yes it was, right next to a nearly identical green button that quite clearly said "ON", except the red one was depressed and the green one wasn't.

I shook my head slightly, not wanting to believe they'd made such an obvious mistake. But then, I remembered from tutoring my slower peers, obvious mistakes were the last ones most people looked for. It was just disappointing, in a way, realizing that my parents were not only oblivious and delusional, but that they could be as stupid as any of my classmates.

I slumped a bit, lowering my flashlight and turning to leave.

…Something was pulling my hair.

* * *

A/N: I can't believe I've started yet another story. *hits head on wall*

Please read and review. If you don't think Jazz is in character, then say so and please explain why so I can figure out how to fix it.


	2. Curiosity II

Disclaimer: I don't own DP.

BGM: "8th Commandment" by Sonata Arctica.

* * *

Curiosity II

I had the absolutely brilliant idea to try to fix a ridiculously complicated device, designed and built by a couple of mad scientists, no less. So, how did I go about it? Did I ask for help, did I get back-up, did I even make a plan? (Never mind that no plan survives first contact.) No, I just borrowed a jumpsuit and some assorted bits of equipment that wouldn't be missed (without asking, of course) and jumped right in.

_I'm an idiot._

_I'm an idiot, and that is why I am currently trying to disentangle my stupidly long hair from some poorly designed bit of machinery protruding from the inner walls of the Fenton Portal Mark II._ There was no other explanation, save that I really and truly had (finally) gone insane due to overexposure to said couple of mad scientists and their many, many unstable inventions.

"Crumbs, crumbs, crumbs, and furthermore _cookie_ crumbs," I muttered in irritation, fumbling with a (most likely superfluous) metal structure through the too-stiff fabric of my gloves.

I shook out my aching fingers and gave up on trying to tease my hair out of the stiff hooks and loops that just. Wouldn't. Budge already!

Then I slapped my forehead with a gloved hand, wincing as the movement pulled on my scalp. I had a flashlight and a toolkit. Why was I messing around with my bare hands? (Well, not bare, but- oh, why am I going on about this now?)

Biting my lip, I turned myself around and pulled the needed items off my belt. Then I realized that I would need two hands for tools as well as the flashlight to see, and I only had two total hands. I muttered another insult at myself for not thinking to bring a miner's light, or better yet, following the basic lab safety rules I'd had drilled into me since I could walk and tying my stupidly long hair back before I started poking around. _But _no_, I'm the smart one, so I couldn't have forgotten something._

"Stupid, stupid…"

I let a tiny whimper pass my lips and felt my face heat up, and then remembered there was no one else around to watch me make a complete fool of myself. Grimacing, I experimented with places to put the flashlight. (I was not going to put that in my mouth. Who knew where it had been?)

Eventually, I managed to get it wedged between my left ear and shoulder, like a painfully odd-shaped phone headset. Flicking the light on (at the last second, because who knew when the battery was last changed), I got out a little hook and started trying to untangle my hair from the inner workings of the Fenton Portal. Again. Frowning slightly, I yanked the confining headband off, huffing a breath out through my nose (my jaw was far too tense to open my mouth, even the tiniest bit) as a little more pressure came off and I got the first few hairs out of the mess.

I stubbornly worked at it for minutes on end, ignoring the pain from cramping muscles, and managed to get most of my hair untangled, leaving just a few stubborn strands that had somehow managed to get themselves worked deep into a bit of exposed circuitry. _How…?_

(_Never mind. I don't think I want to know the answer to that particular question, not that badly. It wouldn't surprise me much, at this point, if it turned out that the Fenton Portal actually had something resembling a will of its own. It might just explain _that_ incident._)

I shifted positions to get a better view.

The flashlight slipped from its place, and I tried to grab it, but it clattered to the floor and guttered out.

Finally, alone in the darkness, I let myself cry. I didn't allow myself that weakness for long. I reached into the toolkit and felt for the smooth oblong of a tiny Swiss Army knife, and the rigid grooves of its attachments. Sorting through them by feel, I felt a sense of something equal parts triumph and relief when I got to the tiny scissors and, carefully, snipped through the last lock of hair, nearly grinning as I felt them settle back into place. _Forget contamination (for now); I can go back and pick everything up when I can actually see._

And darn whoever didn't think to put emergency lights in the Fenton Portal anyway! I could see the basement lights out of the corner of my eye, but it was still too dark to make out any details here. I could barely see my hand in front of my face, let alone fiddly bits of metal. _Just how far does this tunnel extend? Am I even still on Fenton property at this point, or does it cross the property line? (And is that going to get my parents into legal trouble?_ _Oh, dear, I hope not._)

Feeling the cramps easing out of my neck and shoulders, I yawned and reflexively stretched my arms out, forward and back, feeling pressure give under my fingers. I stopped and, not seeing anything amiss, started to pick up the dropped objects. It wasn't like a few seconds here or there would make much difference at this point.

I shot one last baleful look at the bit of hair still tangled in some circuits, and the world stopped. There were lights active, tracks in the circuitry glowing bright green (active circuitry, oh G-d, oh G-d).

I heard things fall to the floor, but was a bit preoccupied with not being _inside_ when the thing _turned on_-

Then the light caught up with me.

(The light was green, at first. Then it slowly faded into a murky cloudy off-white like smoke gathering that dissipated to reveal a beautiful clear red, like the most brilliant of flawless rubies.)

I heard someone screaming, like a frightened little girl.

(It was such an annoying sound, like nails-on-a-chalkboard screeching that got into the tiny bones in your jaw and made your teeth buzz.)

I saw flesh shrivel and peel off of yellow bone that bleached white.

(And I thought: How am I seeing this when I felt my eyes melt?)

I saw hair in bright-red-orange fire-colored locks mixing with melted plastic and rubber.

(And I wondered why I couldn't smell the fumes.)

Then the pain hit.

(There were a million tiny needles, I thought, a thousand tiny knives cutting me apart and then someone was sticking the needles in, and then salt was rubbed in the wounds as muscle and skin and bones and organs and blood vessels and nerves and every invisible little piece of me/what-had-been-me was all mixed up and churned up and pulled and pushed this way and that and poured into a mold and _**set**_.)

Then I fell forward, out of the mouth, into bright light that jabbed at my (new) eyes and stung my (new) skin.

Distantly, I saw someone small and white and pale (and _hurt_ in such a sweetly simple way) making animal noises and scrambling out of my field of view.

Then a dawn-bright light swallowed me, and I knew nothing.

* * *

A/N: So. Think of common English idioms, you'll understand the title fairly quickly. (And yes, I probably could have made it all one chapter, but the muse is fickle. I literally only just wrote this.) Also, what the heck is my muse smoking? Yeesh.

Please read and review, and tell me honestly: What do you think?


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